


To Never Take a Single Step

by nitilia



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Not quite romance yet, Slow Build, Tezuka is not very admirable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11071785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitilia/pseuds/nitilia
Summary: Fuji had seen Echizen around the campus before. He followed his captain around like he was his sole reason for living, and Fuji was pretty sure he was in love.(Or, in which Echizen likes Tezuka, Tezuka doesn't want to like guys, and Fuji doesn't want to like anyone but gets stuck with Echizen anyway.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from fanfiction.net.

It started off as matches every week.

But then the matches ran late, so they’d have dinner together. And that would run late, so naturally Tezuka would have to walk him home. What started off as two hours together each weekend eventually led up to the entirety of it.

“I’m starting to think you don’t have any other friends, buchou,” he told him once, when he’d been called out to the mall to find a present for the boy’s cousin.

Tezuka shrugged, shifting through rows of shirts. “You’re my cousin’s age. I thought you could help.”

Ryoma stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked at the ground, helping his former captain in no way at all. “Well, I don’t have any other friends,” he told him, ignoring his previous statement entirely.

Tezuka spared a glance at him. “I’m not surprised.”

He wasn’t offended, because he wasn’t surprised either. The fact that he had a friend at all was a lot more strange.

“You still have a year before high school,” Tezuka reminded him. “Making friends wouldn’t hurt.”

“People are annoying.”

Tezuka looked amused. “And I’m not a person?”

“Nah.” He liked Tezuka. He didn’t annoy him. He was possibly the only person on the planet who didn’t. Save Karupin, but he didn’t think Karupin counted as a person either.

He left Tezuka to his ritualistic shirt-shifting and scanned the rest of the store.

_No. God. No._

Atobe Keigo. He’d recognize that face anywhere. He doubted there was anyone left who wouldn’t.

“Hide!” he said, crouching down and trying to drag Tezuka down with him. The older boy stumbled and almost fell on his face, but grabbed the clothes rack at the last moment and stayed his ground.

“Echizen, what –“

“Tezuka!” Atobe’s voice called out from across the room. “What a pleasant surprise.”

 _Damn you, damn you, damn you._ Ryoma stayed in his crouched position, hoping he wouldn’t be seen. Tezuka seemed torn between the shock of seeing his tennis rival and of Ryoma almost killing him. “Atobe?”

Moments later, Atobe stood in front of them, extending a hand for Tezuka to shake. “It’s rare to see you around this area,” he said, as Tezuka shook his hand. “ And...” he paused, looking down at where Ryoma was supposedly hiding. His eyes narrowed. “Brat,” he said, with a hint of disdain.

“Monkey king,” Ryoma said, with as much disdain as possible.

“ _What_ are you doing down there?”

“Hiding from you,” he informed him, not embarrassed in the slightest.

Atobe raised his eyebrows. “And what have I done to frighten you so?”

“Your aura. It blinds me.”

Atobe’s eyes narrowed further, like he knew he’d been insulted but couldn’t decide in exactly which way. He turned back to Tezuka. “Why is he around you, anyway? I thought he was still in middle school.”

“Buchou invited me,” Ryoma told him. “He needs my expertise.”

Tezuka seemed to have given up on being part of the conversation anymore and simply sighed.

“’Buchou’? He’s not your captain anymore.”

“Thanks, monkey king, I didn’t realize.”

“What brings you here, Atobe?” Tezuka asked, hoping to shut them both up.

Atobe sighed dramatically. “This and that. You know how work is these days. Tedious.”

“...you were looking at pink fur hats,” Ryoma couldn’t help but point out.

Atobe strategically ignored him. “How’s Fuji these days?” he asked instead.

“He’s fine.”

Fuji? Fuji... _Fuji...I know this name, I know this name..._

“Don’t strain yourself,” Atobe told him, amused. “You played him at the Kantou tournament in your first year.”

Yeah, and about a hundred other people. But _Fuji,_ he knew Fuji...

“Rikkai!” he realized at last. “Rikkai, with the triple counters.”

“At last, a breakthrough. He’ll be your senior next year, you know.”

“...I’m not going to Rikkai.”

“He’s in Seishun, idiot.”

“Eh?”

Atobe sighed, his expression one of pity. “He’s in Seishun, he quit the tennis club, and he’s your beloved captain’s best friend. Why is it that I know so much about your school that you don’t know yourself?”

“Stalker,” Ryoma informed him wisely. But his mind was still stuck at _captain’s best friend._

Rikkai, with the triple counters. Brown hair, blue eyes. They never finished their match. The score was 4-3, and the match was called off due to rain, and Ryoma had crashed his bicycle into a wall on the way home. He’d had to forfeit the next day.

Not one of his best memories.

“I want to play him,” he said more to himself than to Tezuka, after Atobe had said his goodbyes and left in his limousine.

Tezuka’s mouth twitched upwards. “I’ll tell him that.”

 

* * *

 

Fuji had seen Echizen around the campus before. It was hard to miss him – he was the only middle schooler who turned up so often. He followed his captain around like he was his sole reason for living, and Fuji was pretty sure he was in love.

But although he didn’t know him much, he could tell that Echizen was pretty slow. Fifteen minutes of _it’s impossible to break my Higuma Otoshi, I don’t mean that_ you _can’t, I mean that it’s literally impossible_ hadn’t ever managed to sink into his head, and his endless rant of _don’t ride your bicycle in the rain, it’s not safe, I’ll drop you home if you want_ hadn’t sunk in either. Also, he’d never seen the boy not in a daze except when he was playing a match. Even on campus he seemed clueless about the amount of attention he was getting. So if Echizen really was in love, Fuji was pretty sure he didn’t know it.

What was curious was whether Tezuka knew it or not.

“Echizen’s waiting for you again,” he said, smiling as he looked out the window on the third floor. The boy was leaning against the wall near the gate, his tennis bag slung over a shoulder, staring at the ground listlessly. “I think he likes you, you know.”

Tezuka frowned. “We’re friends, yes.”

“Don’t be dense, Tezuka. I meant as more than that.”

Tezuka’s frown deepened, but he stayed silent.

“So you _do_ know.”

“I don’t want it to distract him,” Tezuka said weakly. “He’s only in middle school. There’s tennis, his education...“

“ _Really_ , Tezuka?”

Tezuka looked more uncomfortable by the second.

“Do you like him?” Fuji asked.

“I don’t know,” was the honest reply. “I try not to think about it.”

“If you don’t want to distract him, why spend so much time with him?”

“I was his captain. I should be there when he needs me.”

Fuji raised an eyebrow. “Riiight.” In Yanagi’s words, there was a ninety percent chance that Tezuka liked the boy back. “I’m heading home, then,” he said, picking up his book bag and camera bag and slinging them over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tezuka nodded in acknowledgement. Fuji shut the door softly behind him.

He didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he stood at the window near the end of the corridor and watched students hurry past. He reached for his digital camera absentmindedly and pulled it out, switching it on.

Transferring to Seishun had been a spur-of-the-moment decision on his part. The Rikkai spirit had never suited him. Fuji had never played tennis to win – he’d played simply because it was something to do. That’s why he did anything, really. To avoid being bored.

But Yukimura, Sanada, Tezuka, Echizen - the entire middle school circuit - they all played with a passion that Fuji could never match, and didn’t ever want to match. Tennis _consumed_ them. Hearing Yukimura screaming in the hospital room was the last straw. The boy had cared too much, and he’d paid for it in ways he could have never imagined.

A group of first years passed by three floors under him, laughing madly at each other. Fuji focused his camera and clicked.

Caring was simply not his forte. He didn't have enough motivation. It was much easier to just watch things happen and not be a part of it. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t get hurt. And no one liked getting hurt.

He noticed a boy hiding from his classmates in a tree. He clicked again.

Transferring schools helped him cut off any attachments he’d made unintentionally.

Echizen still stood by the gate, looking slightly put off from waiting so long. A group of first years jeered at him as they walked by. He didn’t seem to notice.

Fuji zoomed in and clicked again, adding one more picture to the fifty or so he’d taken of the boy already.

 

* * *

 

Ryoma was sick of waiting.

When it seemed clear that Tezuka wouldn’t turn up any time soon, he tried to remember the way to the vending machines. In the midst of straining his brain in vain, and completely overlooking the poetry in that statement, he noticed familiar brown hair and closed eyes.

“Fuji Syusuke!” he blurted. “Rikkai. Triple counters.”

Fuji looked amused. “Age sixteen, favourite food is wasabi. That’s my entire biography right there.”

“I want a rematch.”

“Really, Echizen. You haven’t seen me in more than a year. This is where normal people exchange pleasantries. “

Ryoma scowled. “I want a rematch.”

“I _did_ tell you not to take your bike that day.”

Ryoma frowned. He didn’t like being reminded of that _._ It somewhat hurt his pride.

“I’m not in the tennis club anymore, you know?” Fuji continued.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t play.”

“True.” He shifted his bag. “When and where?”

“Now. We could play at the street courts.”

Fuji looked at him for a moment, before tugging at the front of his school uniform pointedly. “I’d rather not play in this.”

Right. Ryoma had his tennis clothes in his bag, but Fuji would be at an unfair disadvantage. Problems, problems...

Fuji smiled. “Why don’t we play on Saturday?”

Ryoma frowned. “I have a match with buchou then.”

“Well, that can’t take all day, can it? I’ll just tag along.”

He was torn for a moment between wanting a rematch with Fuji and wanting more time to play Tezuka, but the former won out quickly. “Okay.”

Fuji nodded. “I’ll be going, then. See you around, Echizen.” He waved before he walked out through the gate. Ryoma found it strange that he walked home alone. From what he remembered, Fuji was ridiculously popular with everyone, boys and girls alike.

But then again, so was Tezuka, and he was stuck walking home with him.

 

* * *

 

He had no clue why he agreed to play against Echizen. It was the last thing he wanted to do. But the boy hadn’t seemed willing to take no for an answer, so Fuji had just gone with the flow. He regretted it now. As much as he liked Tezuka, and as much as he felt obliged to humour Echizen, he simply did not feel like picking up a racket.

The solution to the problem was simple. Saturday came, and Fuji didn’t go. Tezuka called him a couple of times, but he ignored his phone and concentrated on sorting through and editing that week’s photos. Late at night, when he was sure Tezuka would be home, he called him himself.

“Hello, Tezuka.”

“Fuji.” His friend sounded resigned. “Why didn’t you turn up?”

“Something came up.”

“Of course,” Tezuka said, clearly not believing him but too polite to call him out on it. “Echizen threw a fit.”

Fuji cracked a smile. “I can imagine. I’ll make it up to him sometime.” He probably wouldn’t. “Are you ever going to tell him you like him?” he asked, changing the topic entirely.

There was a pause at the other end of the line. “I never said I liked him.”

“But it’s clear that you do.”

There was another pause as Tezuka debated whether or not he should hang up on him. One side of his head would tell him to mind his manners, while the other side would tell him that Fuji deserved it. Fuji waited patiently for him to make his mind up.

Tezuka hung up. Fuji smiled fondly.

 

* * *

 

There were very few things that Ryoma did in his life. He went to school. He played tennis afterwards. Then he walked home with Tezuka, and after they’d parted ways, he went to his (generally empty) house and played with his cat. Or if Tezuka was busy, he went straight to the street courts. Which was where he was now.

Tezuka had never liked the street courts. He said they were too public. Which was rather the _point_ of going there – you could run into anyone. But he could understand where Tezuka was coming from, seeing as the boy almost never played matches without scheduling them before hand. Ryoma, on the other hand, loved the courts _because_ of the unexpectedness of a challenge. And if there wasn’t someone to challenge, there was at least someone to annoy.

Today, he’d found Fuji Yuuta.

“Echizen!” the boy called, waving his racket at him. “A match?”

He grinned. “You seem eager to lose.”

Yuuta didn’t even bother scowling at him these days. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get over here.”

Playing Yuuta was always fun. Even if his Super Rising was a pain. When the match was over (6-3) they both collapsed on a bench, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Damn you, Echizen,” Yuuta grumbled good-naturedly. “Can’t go easy on me, can you.”

“I _was_ going easy on you.” That earned him a whack on the head.

“I heard you met my brother last week,” Yuuta said, when they were breathing normally again.

“...who?”

“...my brother?”

Ryoma paused. He processed that information again, and again, and again, and...

“...Fuji Syusuke is your brother.”

Yuuta sweatdropped. “You know, normal people know me _as_ Fuji Syusuke’s brother.”

A small part of Ryoma’s head wanted to sing _It’s a small world after all,_ but he ignored that part meaningfully. “He didn’t turn up for our rematch.”

Yuuta shrugged. “He doesn’t really like playing anymore. He says it’s boring.”

Ryoma scowled.

“Oi, you can’t hate him for that.”

He most certainly _could._ “He played for _Rikkai._ How could that have bored him?”

“That was probably the problem. You know how they are. _Victory is everything, bow down to the Child of God_ and all that.”

True. The Rikkai tennis team was a tiny bit disturbing. Or maybe outright mental. He wondered who came up with all those names, anyway. The Emperor, the Devil, the Trickster...did they all just pick a name themselves, or was there some ceremonial process involved?

Fuji Syusuke had been the Tensai. Ryoma had found that spectacularly lame, until he faced the triple counters.

“Rikkai is disturbing, but it’s not _boring_ ,” Ryoma decided at last, a bit sulky.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. “I suppose this is where I mention that I’m right behind you.”

Ryoma was too surprised to start, but Yuuta jumped off the bench entirely. “Aniki! What are you doing here?”

Fuji smiled. “Tezuka and I were just passing by.”

Tezuka? Ryoma looked around, and sure enough, Tezuka stood near the fence, frowning at the state of the courts in distaste.

“Why don’t we all get something to eat?” Fuji asked, still smiling.

“Nope,” Yuuta said, already picking his things up. “I’m out of here. I’ll see you at home.” He waved to Echizen, nodded at Tezuka, and left.

“What about you, Echizen?”

Ryoma shrugged. He’d only be alone at home, anyway.

 

* * *

 

Tezuka was being awkward. He didn’t meet either of their eyes for the duration of the meal.

Fuji couldn’t blame him. It was probably his fault, anyway, for confusing him. Tezuka was from a traditional family, and grew up believing that women liked men and men liked women and that exceptions were only ever discussed in harsh tones. At this point, he must have been really lost.

Echizen seemed to not have noticed at all. He’d finished his meal before either of them did, and was fiddling with a cat keychain on his tennis bag absently.

“You really don’t want a rematch, do you,” he said at one point, frowning at Fuji.

Fuji shook his head. “I really don’t.” But because this was Echizen, who wasn’t good with ‘no’s, Fuji knew that this wouldn’t be the end of it.

“Have you ever played Yukimura-san?” he asked.

Fuji shook his head. “Not once.”

“Have you played buchou?”

He nodded. “I lost, of course.”

Echizen looked at his former captain for confirmation, but Tezuka was fixated on his meal.

“Tezuka,” Fuji said lightly. “Is something wrong?”

Tezuka blinked. “I’m fine.”

 

* * *

 

Tezuka was being awkward. And distant. He’d told Ryoma not to wait for him because he had work to do, but then he’d gone around town with Fuji instead.

Ryoma glared at the screen of his cell phone. Half of his head told him that he should ask him what was wrong, and the other half told him that he didn’t care.

In the end, he gave up on both sides, and texted him the only thing he understood:

‘ _Is our match on Saturday still on?’_

A reply came two minutes later. _‘Of course.’_ And then a minute later, _‘I am sorry about today. I wasn’t well.’_

Ryoma grinned at his screen. That made no sense whatsoever, but he’d apologized. That meant he didn’t entirely hate him yet.

 

* * *

 

Tezuka eyed his can of Ponta dispassionately. “That isn’t good for you,” he told him, for the millionth time that year.

Ryoma ignored him and downed the whole can, before digging in his pocket for more change.

Tezuka sighed, getting himself a bottle of mineral water. Ryoma swore he acted older than his granddad already.

After downing his second can, he sank onto the bench. Tezuka sat down next to him.

“Do you have any more change?” Ryoma asked him.

Tezuka pretended not to hear. “How are you parents?” he asked instead.

Ryoma scowled. “You could have just said you wouldn’t give me money.”

“I won’t give you money. Now, how are your parents?”

He shrugged. “Who knows. I haven’t seen them in weeks.”

“Your cousin?”

“She’s still around. Stressed.” It was a miracle Nanako wasn’t insane yet. She had to take care of the both of them, work part time, and simultaneously manage her college work. Ryoma didn’t envy her. “She has to go somewhere next month, though. Part of her internship. Don’t blame me if I oversleep and skip school.”

Tezuka frowned. “How long will she be gone?”

“No clue.” In reality, it bothered him. While he’d gotten used to an empty house by day, at night it creeped him out.

“You could stay with my family,” Tezuka offered.

Ryoma stared at him. “Really?”

“Why not.”

He could think of an incredible number of reasons as to why not. He doubted that anyone would be okay with a random kid crashing their house for more than a week.

“Don’t you need to ask your parents first?”

Tezuka shrugged. “They’ll agree.”

“...okay,” he said.

There was a moment of silence.

“Thanks,” he added.

He couldn’t tell if Tezuka was smiling.

 

* * *

 

Surely, Echizen had to get bored of waiting some time.

Then again, Fuji still hadn’t gotten bored of watching him. It was remarkable how he turned up nearly _every single day,_ no matter the weather, no matter the time, in spite of the distance between the two schools. Either the boy had absolutely nothing to do in life, or he was the most devoted person Fuji had ever met.

“There’s too much paperwork,” Tezuka told him, massaging his temples. “Tell him to go without me.”

Fuji nodded, patting his friend on the back sympathetically. He had no clue why people wanted to be part of the student council. It was a pain.

He waved at Echizen when he reached the gate. “Tezuka has paperwork,” he told him. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

Echizen blinked at him, not knowing how to answer.

Fuji sighed. “Okay, I’ll rephrase that so it doesn’t hurt your pride to agree: would you like to accompany me and prevent me from dying of loneliness?”

Echizen half grinned.

It turned out their houses were on the same side of town – much closer than his was to Tezuka. The walk was mostly silent. Fuji had come to realize that Echizen talked of few things besides tennis, and that the only things they had in common were a tennis match, a bike, Tezuka, and Yuuta.

“You don’t talk much,” he said at one point.

“Neither do you,” came the reply. “Why do you walk home alone?”

He didn’t expect that. “I take a lot of detours,” he said. “My classmates either go home, or karaoke, so our routes don’t really fit together.”

There was a pause. “You call them your classmates,” Echizen said, like he was wondering if that meant anything. “Not your friends.”

Fuji glanced at him. “Observant, aren’t you.”

“Not really.”

“Yes, I didn’t think so.” There was another pause. “How long have you known Tezuka?”

“First year. You?”

“Preschool.”

Echizen looked horrified. “That’s disturbing.”

Fuji could imagine. Thinking about his own former captain in diapers wasn’t really mentally pleasing either. But Tezuka...“He was cute back then,” he said smiling, and actually meaning it. After that Tezuka had grown into some kind of grandfather-wannabe, and he’d never been cute again.

Echizen coughed. “That’s even more disturbing.”

Well, seeing was believing. “Why do you wait for him every day? No friends in middle school?”

“Nope.”

He didn’t seem upset about it. “Why, what happened to the tennis team?”

“It’s full of idiots.” Echizen stopped and gestured towards a side street. “My house is over there.” He seemed to hesitate for moment before remembering his manners. “You could come, if you want.”

He was curious to see where Echizen lived, so he followed him. This place was only a block away from his own house. The area seemed deserted, and Echizen’s house was one of two on the entire street. He wasn’t surprised to see that he had a tennis court at the back.

Echizen let himself in. “It’s messy,” he warned Fuji, as he followed him into the empty house.

“Your parents aren’t here?”

“They travel a lot. Never home. I live with my cousin.”

Fuji frowned. “How old is your cousin?”

“Twenty. She’s not here now. She only gets home late at night.”

The place really was a mess. Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink, papers and books were strewn across the floor. Sitting amongst the papers, glaring at him suspiciously, was a Himalayan cat.

“This is Karupin,” Echizen introduced awkwardly. “She’s my..um, cat.”

Everything Fuji knew about Echizen was finally starting to tally up. No wonder he was so unsociable – he didn’t have a proper family, and he had no friends at school. He’d attached himself to Tezuka because he was one of the only people in his life. He spent all his time at the street courts because there was no one there at home. Fuji distanced himself from people because he knew attachments hurt. Echizen hadn’t even made attachments to begin with.

Except tennis, of course. And Tezuka. And from what he could tell, his cat.

 

* * *

 

Tezuka’s house was terrifying.

He didn’t mean to be rude. He was just so used to running around his house and making a mess and doing whatever he wanted (and then dutifully helping Nanako with the household chores), that all the pristine cleanness and politeness and _people_ terrified him. People asked him how he was; nodded at him when he entered a room. Tezuka’s mother wouldn’t let him wash his own plate. Tezuka’s father talked to him about world economy. His grandmother petted his cat.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to function in such a foreign place.

Tezuka frowned at him as he was leading him to his room. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.” All was well. He was well. But _the place was FREAKING SCARY –_

“ _Echizen,”_ Tezuka said sternly, placing a hand on his head. “Stop panicking.”

“I’m not panicking,” he said sullenly. “I’m just...adjusting.”

Tezuka seemed amused. “Alright.” He opened the door of the guest room. “You’ll stay here.”

Ryoma nodded his thanks. “Where’s your room?”

“Across the hall.”

“Okay.”

Tezuka shut the door behind him as he left.

He was in Tezuka’s house, he realized. He was in _Tezuka_ ’ _s_ house. He’d tried pestering Tezuka to let him come over before, but it never worked out. And now he was here, and he was freakishly nervous and surrounded by humans and wanted to go home.

But the guest room was nice. Infinitely less frightening than the rest of the place. He pulled off his socks and sank onto the bed, closing his eyes. Bliss.

He forgot about dinner, and Tezuka let him sleep through it.

 

* * *

 

Tezuka’s grandfather unnerved Ryoma.

He sat directly across from him a breakfast, and he wouldn’t stop watching him. Had this been any old man, Ryoma might have glared back, but since this was _Tezuka’s grandfather,_ he forced himself to behave himself.

“Why make us pay _taxes_ if they’re not going to _do_ anything with them?” Tezuka’s father demanded.

“Would you like some more eggs, Echizen-kun?” Tezuka’s mother asked.

Tezuka ate his food silently.

Tezuka’s grandfather kept watching him.

 

* * *

 

Fuji found Echizen near the vending machines. He was digging in his pocket for change.

“Tezuka’s late again, hm?”

Echizen scowled. “Yeah. And I can’t go home without him.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “His place is terrifying.”

Fuji laughed, taking out a few coins to buy himself a drink. “I know. His mother is nice, but his grandfather is...a bit disturbing.”

“Does he talk?”

“When you least expect it. And his word is law to them.” Fuji had never understood why, because the man was old fashioned, and was ruled by superstition and tradition. Maybe that was why. “Tezuka worships him.”

“I can tell.” Echizen glared at his can of Ponta, sitting on the bench. Fuji sat down next to him. “I thought you didn’t like people,” Echizen said, somewhat randomly.

“...I never said that.”

“You stay away from everyone. All you do on campus is take photos of people.”

Fuji looked at him seriously. “You’re not as oblivious as I thought.”

Echizen smirked. “Fuji-senpai, if you can see me from three floors up, then I can see you from three floors down.”

That was the first time he’d bothered to refer to Fuji by name since _Fuji, Rikkai, triple counters._ “I don’t dislike people,” he said honestly. “I just prefer not to get attached.”

Echizen frowned.

“But, okay, you thought I didn’t like people. So what’s the contradiction?”

He hesitated again. “I see you more than I’d expect to.”

...Well. That took him by surprise. He did, now that he thought about it. He looked for Echizen every day after school. He met him near the street courts sometimes. Over the past month, he’d taken to walking the younger boy home whenever Tezuka wasn’t around. “You make a good point,” he said, frowning.

“So...you’ll be around as long as you’re not attached?”

He’d gotten an entirely wrong message. Fuji forced a smile. “I suppose that was the plan.”

Now, he had a problem.

 

* * *

 

Tezuka’s father was glaring at the newspaper at the breakfast table. “So many rights for homosexuals these days,” he scowled. “I don’t know what this country is coming to.”

“Anata!” His wife admonished. “We have a guest present.”

The man shook his head. “I’m sure he agrees with me. Don’t you Echizen-kun?”

Ryoma frowned. He wasn’t even sure if he was straight himself, what with his ridiculous attachment towards Tezuka. “Not really, no.”

A horrible silence followed his words. Tezuka looked uncomfortable next to him.

Tezuka’s mother laughed nervously. “Well, you know children these days. They like questioning rules, right, Echizen-kun?”

... _what?_ That didn’t make much sense. It didn’t seem like the right moment to say it, but Ryoma couldn’t help but add, “I don’t actually know if I’m straight.”

Tezuka’s plate fell onto the floor and shattered. His grandfather’s eyes narrowed.

 

* * *

 

The rain poured endlessly outside. Fuji’s classmates huddled together under coats and umbrellas as they left the school, half of them squealing in excitement of getting wet and the other half grumbling about the cold. Fuji didn’t particularly feel like either. He sat at his desk in class and flipped through the pictures on his camera absently.

Echizen was an idiot. He’d figured out that much. But even then, _even then..._

“Tezuka, he’s probably scared out of his mind knowing he can’t go back. You should at least explain things to him.”

Tezuka frowned, looking up from whatever student council work he was doing. “I know. I’ll explain after school.”

“It _is_ after school.”

“He’ll be at the tennis courts.”

“It’s freaking _raining,_ Tezuka.”

“Then he would have gone to his house.”

“You don’t even have actual work to do! Would you stop pretending and fix this?”

Tezuka paused, looking up calmly to face him. “There is nothing for me to do.”

For one moment, for one horrible moment, all Fuji wanted to do was slap his friend across the face. He curled his fingers into his palm and stuffed his hand into his pocket. Then he turned stiffly and picked up his things. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tezuka didn’t respond as he left.

He stopped at his usual spot at the end of the corridor. It was hard to see through the window, but Fuji could just about make out people...

...was that Echizen?

His eyes widened and he leaned closer to the glass to see better. That was definitely Echizen. He stood in his usual position near the gate – no coat, no umbrella, nothing. Fuji abandoned his window and took the stairs two at a time, opening his umbrella on the way. When he finally reached the ground, the wind hit him hard. It was freezing. How long had Echizen been here?

He managed to make it to the gate without slipping on the mud. Echizen was utterly drenched and shivering, staring at him blankly as he came towards him. He held the umbrella over both of their heads. “You idiot,” Fuji snapped. “What were you thinking?”

The boy shrugged. “I forgot my umbrella,” he mumbled.

“And you didn’t think to go home?”

“Buchou...”

“He’s busy today. Student council duties.”

Echizen looked stricken. “No. No, he doesn’t have any. The vice president just went by and he said buchou was free.”

“That’s not what he told me,” Fuji said, although he knew it was true. Tezuka really _was_ free that day.

“He’s mad, isn’t he? He wants me to leave.”

“He doesn’t even know you’re here. And this _doesn’t matter right now,_ you’re sopping wet and you need to get home before you fall sick – “

“I didn’t mean to give him trouble!” the boy said, distressed. “I didn’t think he had anything against gay people, I thought...I didn’t think...”

Fuji placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Echizen. Tezuka doesn’t hate you, but he isn’t coming. Let’s get you somewhere warm.”

He seemed almost hysterical. “I can’t go back there.”

“We’ll go to my house, then.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Fuji.”_

Fuji’s eyes narrowed. “...Tezuka.”

“ _Is Echizen with you?”_

“Yes.”

“ _How is he?”_

“He has a fever. He stood in the rain for too long waiting for you. I had to almost drag him home.”

“ _...”_

“I hope you feel guilty,” he said mildly. He stopped himself before he could say something he might regret later, like _I hope your grandfather finds out you liked him._

He hung up before Tezuka could respond.

 

* * *

 

Fuji’s house wasn’t scary at all. Yuuta was there, for one. His mother was sweet, for another. And Fuji’s father didn’t demand that he debate with him about anything and was content to let him exist on his own.

He found it incredibly strange that he felt more welcome at his former rival’s house than he did at his former captain’s.

“You liked Tezuka, didn’t you?” Fuji asked him when he’d recovered from his fever.

Ryoma shrugged. “I don’t know.” It didn’t matter. It was clear that he wasn’t invited to hang around him anymore.

It struck him then that he really, really didn’t have anything to do without Tezuka. He had so few people in his life. There were the people at the street courts, but he only ran into them occasionally. There was Fuji, but he’d made it clear that their friendship was temporary. There was (cough, cough, splutter) _Atobe,_ but that was just disturbing.

He really had liked Tezuka. More than that, he’d depended on him for everything.

“You see what I said about attachments?” Fuji asked him, smiling grimly. “They never work out.” He stood to leave the room. “You’re free to stay here for as long as you want, by the way. My mother loves you already.”

“Would she kill me if I wasn’t straight?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Fuji rolled his eyes. “Echizen, I’m not straight either. It doesn’t _matter.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Honestly? He didn’t actually know why he hid from Atobe, either. It was more of a reflex than anything else. His brain identified something he didn’t want to see, so he hid. It was as simple as that.

“Brat,” the older boy scowled. “My aura can’t be _that_ blinding.”

“You don’t understand your own power, monkey king.”

“Just...get out of there, will you? Surely you have some pride left.”

Ryoma crawled out from behind the bench and straightened up to face him. “What do you want?” he asked bluntly.

“You haven’t been hanging around your captain these days.”

“...yes...?”

“Why?”

Ryoma paused. And stared at him. Hard. “You just drove twenty miles – “

“- twelve, actually – “

“- to ask me why I haven’t been hanging around your one true inspiration.”

Atobe frowned. “I wouldn’t quite phrase it like that.”

“God, monkey king, you _really_ have nothing to do.”

“I was _concerned_ about the well-being of...people.”

“...people.”

“Yes. People.”

“ _People.”_

“People.”

 

* * *

 

When Echizen’s cousin returned and he went back to his own house, Fuji was surprised to find him waiting at the gate again.

“Echizen’s here,” he said aloud. Tezuka looked uncomfortable.

He left Tezuka to his discomfort and went down the stairs to meet Echizen at the gate. “Echizen? You didn’t go home?”

Echizen shook his head. “I thought you’d be dying of loneliness.”

Fuji smiled. “Considerate, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO YEARS AGO:**

The rain started pouring out of nowhere.

It went from drizzling to pouring buckets in only a few seconds. Fuji stopped running for the ball midway – there was no point in it now - and let it bounce and skid somewhere behind him. On the other side of the court he could see Echizen’s look of absolute horror, like he couldn’t believe the rain had dared to start.

Fuji raised a hand to cover his head, even though he was fully drenched. He vaguely heard the referee shouting something. Rain – match – postponed.

Echizen didn’t move from his spot. He was glaring at  _him_ now, like everything was Fuji’s fault.

Fuji shook his head and made his way off the court. His team was waiting for him, all of them looking put out. Yukimura had wanted victory and he’d wanted it fast.

“Here,” Marui said, handing him a towel.

“Thanks.”

“This wouldn’t have been a problem if you’d finished the match faster,” Kirihara said, grumbling.

“You couldn’t beat him after _injuring_ him, Kirihara,” Fuji said, not even meaning to insult him for once. It was true, Kirihara had cracked the boy’s knee and had _still_ lost to him.

Kirihara growled.

In the distance he could see Echizen’s coach screaming at him as he made his way to the sidelines. Something about colds and pneumonia and something. Tezuka patted him on the head once and handed him a towel. The rest of his team barely looked at him.

“Let’s go,” Sanada said, looking at his watch. “If we leave now we can meet Yukimura before visiting hours are over.”

“He’s going to kick us out if we show up without the trophy,” Marui said quietly. There were mumbles of agreement.

“Tarundoru!” Sanada shouted, looking very worried himself.

“I’m going home,” Fuji said, sitting down with the towel over his head. “I’m tired. Sorry. I’ll see him tomorrow.” The thought of going all the way across the city to sit through one of his captain’s psychotic episodes wasn’t appealing at all.

Sanada frowned, but nodded. “Get some rest.” Then they were gone.

The stadium was in confusion, with everyone trying to leave at once. Fuji looked around for Tezuka again. He spotted him walking in his direction, so he smiled and waved.

“You played well,” Tezuka said, sitting down next to him.

Fuji smiled. “I’ve barely kept my lead. Your freshman really is something.”

Tezuka looked proud. “He is, isn’t he.”

There was a comfortable pause in the conversation.

“ You don’t normally go all out like that,” Tezuka said at last.

Fuji shrugged. “What can I say? It was fun.”

Fun wasn’t something they still got at Rikkai, not with their captain so insane.

 

* * *

 

Fuji sat in the backseat of his sister’s car, looking out the window when he spotted Echizen on his bicycle. He was wearing a thick rain coat with the hood pulled over his head, and it took Fuji a moment to recognize him. He was on the sidewalk, barely keeping steady – actually, barely even looking at where he was going. He skidded in every direction and glared steadily at the ground.

Fuji rolled down the car window, asking his sister to slow down. “Echizen!”

The boy looked up, alarmed, abruptly hitting the brakes. “Fuji?” He raised his hood slightly to get a better look.

Fuji smiled at him. “Do you want a ride?”

Echizen looked suspicious. “...why?”

“Because at this rate you’re going to crash into a wall.”

Echizen scowled. “I’m fine.”

“The roads are too slippery. It’s not safe.” It was a miracle that his team had let him make it on his own after such a match. He’d seen them all get into cars. Couldn’t have hurt them to take him with them.

“I’m _fine,”_ Echizen repeated.

“No, you’re not,” Fuji said, giving him a glare of his own. “If you die along the way I’ll win by default tomorrow. And that’s no fun. If you get in the car you’ll at least have a fighting chance.”

Echizen’s glare intensified. He might have looked intimidating if Fuji was any lesser person. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said at last, bringing his feet back up to the pedals and speeding away.

Fuji watched him go, glaring at his retreating back. He winced as he tried to turn a corner, skidded, and crashed instead.

 

* * *

 

The next day, after he’d won by default but Sanada lost to Tezuka, Seigaku won the regionals, and Fuji couldn’t avoid the hospital a second time. They walked to Yukimura’s room without a word. There was nothing to say.

When they opened the door, he was already sitting up, deceptively calm. His voice was quiet, barely audible, but his contempt was clear.

“I can’t believe you dared to show your faces to me.”

No one spoke.

He raised an arm and gestured towards the door. “Get out.”

Kirihara was the first one stupid enough to speak. “We’re sorry, buchou, but we – “

Yukimura grabbed the lamp on his bedside table – the one Fuji had bought him – and flung it at Kirihara in a single fluid motion. Kirihara flinched but he was too late – it struck him hard on the head, sending him staggering. The lamp fell to the ground and shattered.

It took a few shocked moments for the wound to start bleeding.

The fact that no one moved to help Kirihara – actually, no one moved at all, just went to show the control Yukimura had over them. Sanada was the abusive one, not him. This show of violence was completely out of character. But no one dared question him.

Yukimura reached for the red emergency button next to him and pushed it. An alarm sounded and a nurse came hurrying in.

Yukimura turned towards her, livid and insane. “Get them out,” he said, “before I kill them all.”

 

* * *

 

Seigaku was celebrating at a Sushi restaurant. It was owned by one of Tezuka’s childhood friends, Kawamura. Ryoma only remembered the boy’s name because it was the name of the restaurant as well.

His seniors were goofing around as usual, fighting each other for food and laughing at their victory. They seemed almost drunk. Even Tezuka looked content. Ryoma sat next to him at the end of the table, poking at his food absently. He didn’t get along that well with the rest of the team.

“You aren’t eating,” Tezuka noted, pointing at his plate.

Ryoma frowned, lifting a piece with his chopsticks. “I lost,” he reminded him.

Tezuka nodded. “As you well deserved.”

“I could have won.”

“You could have.”

“You aren’t helping, buchou.”

“I’m not.” He dared to look amused.

Ryoma scowled and picked up another piece.

 

* * *

 

When Seigaku won the nationals, Fuji only felt cold. Numb. The cheers around him escalated into meaningless white noise.

When Yukimura stood up, shook Echizen’s hand, and wished him luck, Fuji marvelled at his self control.

Once they left the courts, once Yukimura had screamed and cursed and locked himself up in his room for days, he was reminded of his complete lack of it.

 

* * *

 

Fuji and Yukimura were the last ones in the classroom. Fuji was emptying his desk – throwing out old test papers and letters and what not. Yukimura stood at the window, watching him. His eyes held none of the warmth that they used to. They were cold, sharp, and accusing.

“You’re leaving.” It was a statement, not a question. “Just like that.”

Fuji nodded, not looking at him. “Just like that.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Yukimura snapped.

Fuji sighed. “I’m not suited for Rikkai.”

“You’re not suited for _Rikkai?”_ He looked incredulous. “You’re not suited for _victory?_ Tell me, Syusuke, have you ever lost a match in these three years?”

“I haven’t.” He couldn’t, not with the Rikkai war cry in the background. Not with _Yukimura_ breathing down his neck. “But _you_ have. And look at what losing the nationals did to you.”

Yukimura could look truly dangerous when he wanted to, and losing the nationals wasn’t something he liked to be reminded about. Years of work, years of winning, months of driving them all to work harder than ever, and it had finally been Yukimura Seichii, the best tennis player Rikkai had ever known, who had ruined Rikkai’s victorious streak.

Losing that had, to put things mildly, turned him into a bloody lunatic. Fuji wasn’t so much running away from Rikkai as he was from Yukimura.

“You broke the team apart,” he said quietly.

Yukimura’s eyes widened, in a mix of anger and disbelief.  _“I_ broke the team apart?”

Fuji finally met his gaze, letting his anger show. “Yes, you did. You scared the hell out of everyone. We’re not a  _team_ anymore, we’re all just – when was the last time you had a decent conversation with any of the regulars?”

“We’re here to win,” Yukimura said firmly. “Nothing else _.”_

“ _You’re_ here to win,” he snapped, picking his bag up and retreating towards the door. “ _I_ was here because tennis was _fun_. I was here because you were my best friend. But now, _I won’t even miss you.”_

He walked out and had almost shut the door behind him when he heard Yukimura scream,  _“You were never one of us!”_

He opened the door again, furious. “And I’m  _grateful,”_ he bit out, before slamming the door shut.

 

* * *

**PRESENT:**

‘ _Karupin needs more food.’_

Fuji stared at the message for a second. He was sitting on the bed in his room, sorting pictures. He considered replying, but then decided against it.

His phone pinged again a moment later.  _‘Actually, Karupin needs you to buy more food.’_

Fuji sighed, typing a quick reply.  _‘No, Karupin needs more food. You need me to buy it.’_

‘ _Touché. I’ll pay you for it tomorrow.’_

‘ _Fine.’_

A few minutes passed. Fuji continued sorting his pictures. He’d taken an exceptionally good photo of a kid falling out of a tree. He put that aside for his portfolio.

His phone beeped.  _‘I drank Ponta.’_

‘ _Thank you for the update.’_

He went back to sorting. Some more minutes passed. As expected, his phone beeped again.

‘ _There’s an airplane in the sky.’_

Fuji sighed and picked up his phone, dialling quickly. It would be easier to call the boy and ask him what his problem was.

“Hello?” the voice sounded amused.

“Echizen, really, what do you want?”

“There’s an airplane in the sky,” he repeated. “I thought you’d like to see.”

Fuji shifted on his bed to get closer to the window and craned his neck to look outside. It was hard to see past the other buildings, but sure enough, there was an airplane in the sky.

“Where are you?” he asked, hoping the boy was somewhere indoors. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wander around so late at night.

“I don’t know,” was the honest reply. “Not far from home. And I know my way back.”

Well, that was a small relief. At least he wasn’t lost.

“I’m graduating in a month,” Echizen told him.

“Yes, I’m aware.” Fuji shuffled back to his initial position on the bed, shifting through his photos again. The conversation was finally getting somewhere.

“I think I should switch schools.”

Fuji stopped. “...I’m sorry?”

“Maybe a residential school. That way Nanako would be free, too.”

Of all the things Fuji expected him to say, this wasn’t one of them.  _I have too much homework,_ he had expected. Or,  _the tennis team is useless._ Or even,  _did you talk to Tezuka today?_

His words felt like a slap in the face – a residential school? Really? _–_ but Fuji tried to concentrate on the facts. “What brought this on?” he asked, trying to keep the shock from his voice.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, like Echizen was trying to decide whether to lie to him or not. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “Tezuka will be my captain next year. I can’t...be on his team.”

Fuji repeated the words to himself, again and again. Trying to fully wrap his head around the problem. When he was done, when he’d understood, he hung up.

Everyone he knew was so childish.

 

* * *

 

 

He woke up early the next morning because he had cat food to buy, but he wasn’t feeling any less negative towards Echizen.

The whole Tezuka-Echizen drama had gone on for too long. What annoyed Fuji the most, was that Tezuka had absolutely no reason for avoiding Echizen. Sure, Echizen had said that he probably wasn’t straight, but neither was Fuji, and Tezuka talked to him fine.

No, what bothered Tezuka about Echizen was that he actually  _reciprocated_ his feelings. If there were any feelings. Teenagers were so messed up.

He was living proof. Going out early to buy cat food when he didn’t even have a cat.

The supermarket was in the next block. Fuji waited to cross the road.

“Maybe I should leave the school as well,” Fuji told the sidewalk. The entire point of leaving Rikkai was to avoid attachments. And here he was caught between two people, annoyed because Echizen would rather stay away from him than be on Tezuka’s tennis team.

He couldn’t complain, really. He  _had_ told the boy that their friendship was temporary. What with how thick Echizen’s head was, it was unlikely he’d ever realize otherwise.

The signal lit up, and Fuji crossed the road, frowning to himself. Maybe it would be better if Echizen left. He could be peaceful again.

He remembered screaming  _I won’t even miss you_ at Yukimura and realized, not for the first time, how wrong he had been.

 

* * *

 

 

He was relieved when he saw Echizen waiting at the gate after school. He was scowling, of course, but Fuji couldn’t expect a happy greeting when he’d hung up on him. Heck, he couldn’t expect a happy greeting ever.

“I think your face really _did_ get stuck like that and you just haven’t noticed yet,” Fuji told him, handing him the bag of cat food. “Because you never tried to change your expression.”

Echizen ignored him, staring at the catfood in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d buy it.”

“I’m mad at you, not your cat.”

Echizen nodded. "Thanks," he remembered to say. "I'm going to the street courts today, so you can go on ahead."

_Go on ahead with Tezuka,_ he meant. "Hmm. Will Yuuta be there?"

He shook his head. "Not today."

Fuji frowned. "All right. You go on then."

Echizen raised a hand slightly in farewell, heading out the gates. Fuji pulled out his camera. It wouldn't hurt to be productive while he waited for Tezuka.

 

* * *

 

 

The idea to change schools, on Ryoma's part, wasn't a spur of the moment decision. It really  _would_ be easier for him, and for Nanako, and probably for his parents, too. They could just stay wherever they wanted instead of pretending to come home every now and then. 

And he could focus on tennis.

He didn't  _think_ that Tezuka would be stupid enough to ignore a teammate, but then again, he hadn't thought Tezuka would be stupid enough to ignore him ever. Plus, Ryoma had never been popular with the rest of the team. He'd be better off just leaving.

Fuji was a hypocrite. But his opinion didn't matter.

"Echizen?"

Ryoma stopped. Turned. Saw Atobe heading towards him.

He scowled, wrapped his scarf around him tighter, and sped off again with newfound vigour...

...only to have Atobe catch him by the collar and hold him back. He stood there, collar strained, frowning at his own misery. "What do you  _want,_ Atobe."

Atobe sounded amused. "Have you ever actually succeeded in hiding from me during your spectacular attempts to do so?"

Ryoma shrugged. "Sure," he drawled.

He hadn't actually. His life was such a failure.

He pushed Atobe's hand away from his collar. "What do you want?"

"Nothing. I just saw you passing by."

Ryoma's eyebrow twitched. "Well, now that we've both seen each other, excuse me." He turned heel and sped off again.

"Are you and Tezuka still on bad terms?" Atobe called after him, still amused.

His irritation went up a notch, but he didn't turn back. Street courts, street courts, must reach the street courts.

Atobe kept up with him easily. "You should think of switching to Hyotei next year."

Ryoma sweatdropped. "You're here to  _recruit_ me?"

Atobe shrugged. “You'd do well in Hyotei.”

“With a monkey for a captain? Sure.”

Atobe looked at him like he always did, like he couldn't see how he'd lived for so long without getting squished. “Maybe Rikkai Dai would be a better choice,” he said dryly. “Hyotei might... end badly.”

That it would. But Rikkai Dai, there was a thought...

And because Fuji had hung up on him yesterday and he wanted to annoy him, he couldn't help but text him:

_'What about Rikkai Dai?'_

 

* * *

 

“You know, Tezuka,” Fuji started, as they walked home together after school. It was rare for them to do this anymore – Fuji always went ahead with Echizen, and Tezuka delayed himself somehow.

“Hm?” Tezuka asked, turning towards him slightly.

“I’m gay,” Fuji told him.

Tezuka stared at him blankly.

“As you well know,” he felt the need to point out, “since I’ve told you before.”

Tezuka looked even more confused. “...yes?”

“Well, I was thinking,” - and here he smiled at him sweetly, because Tezuka clearly hadn’t had the sense to think this through himself- “You still talk to me, don’t you? Why not Echizen?”

Tezuka looked away. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it? I’m sure your grandfather hates me just as much.”

Tezuka shook his head and refused to elaborate.

In truth, Fuji knew why. He just wanted Tezuka to admit it for himself, so that he could stop being an idiot over such a minor issue. “It’s because you like him back.” He didn’t phrase it as a question.

Tezuka sighed. A long, exasperated sigh. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Talk to him. He deserves that much at least.”

"He'll get over it, Fuji."

That he might, but he sure as hell wasn't going to stop being an idiot over it. "He's thinking about switching schools next year just to stay away from you."

Tezuka stared at him wordlessly.

"Seigaku's going to lose miserably," Fuji mused. Then, more to himself, "Yukimura will have a field day."

His phone pinged. He read the message.

_'What about Rikkai Dai?'_

Fuji's mood darkened immediately.

 

* * *

 

 

“I'm home,” Ryoma called to the empty house.

Karupin meowed at him, swishing around his feet. Ryoma petted her absently.

He took of his shoes and made his way into the living room, flopping down face first on the couch. Karupin jumped onto his back and settled down.

“I hate my life,” Ryoma told her, voice muffled by the couch.

She meowed in agreement.

“What's wrong with _your_ life?” Ryoma asked, irritated. “You get good food and sleep and get to laze around all day.”

Karupin thought about it for a moment, and meowed in agreement again.

His phone rang just then, and he fumbled awkwardly to get it out of his pocket without pushing Karupin off. He brought it up and hit speaker.

“Hello?”

“Oi, seishounen! How have ya been?”

Ryoma scowled. “I'm trying to sleep.”

“Ooooooh, any pretty ladies around - “ there was a muffled shout and a resounding _thwack_ as the phone, Ryoma assumed, was wrestled from his father.

“Hello, Ryoma,” his mother said happily, as if she hadn't just half-killed her husband (or rather, as if she had). “Did you eat anything?”

“Ponta.”

Rinko sighed, but didn't bother reprimanding him. They were long past that stage. “Anyway, Nanako just called. She said she's staying at a friend's house for a couple of days. For some project.”

Ryoma's frown deepened. “Why didn't she call me?”

“She'll probably call you soon. I just wanted to know if you could stay with one of your friends?”

“Yeah. Sure. Okay.”

“That's great! Okay, I'll call you back in a while. I love you.”

“Okay.”

The line went dead. Ryoma let his phone drop to the ground and shuffled into a more comfortable position to sleep in. Like hell he was staying at a friend's house. His parents would never know.

It didn't take him long to drift asleep. He slept through three phone calls and only woke up to furious knocking at his door.

 

* * *

 

 

“You want to go to Rikkai,” Fuji said, the moment Echizen opened the door. He didn't bother containing his irritation.

The younger boy stared at him blearily, half asleep. “Huh?”

“You want to go to _Rikkai_ because you and Tezuka can't get over some childish crush?”

Echizen blinked a few times, eyes clearing fast. _“What?”_

“What the hell is your problem?”

“What the hell is _your_ problem?” Echizen scowled, now fully awake. “Like you're any better than me. You ran away from Rikkai because a _ttachments hurt?”_

Fuji darkened. “You don't know what Rikkai was like.”

“Yeah, well you don't know what Seigaku was like!” Echizen snapped. “You think anyone on the team gives a shit if I'm there?”

“Since when does that bother you? I thought Echizen Ryoma _didn't need people in his life?”_

“I thought _you_ didn't need people in your life?” Echizen said, voice getting progressively louder and angrier. “Why does it matter to you which school I go to?”

Fuji stopped, eyes narrowed, holding his tongue. “You need someone to follow around, don't you? First Tezuka, then me. You're not getting someone like that at Rikkai.”

There was an ugly silence for a moment. “I don't need a friend any more than you do,” Echizen said, deceptively calm, before taking a step back and shutting the door in Fuji's face.

Fuji stood on the doorstep, staring at the door long after he'd left.

 

* * *

 

 

Fuji had seen Echizen around the campus before. It was hard to miss him – he was the only middle schooler who turned up so often. He followed his captain around like he was his sole reason for living, and Fuji was pretty sure he was in love.

The first time he'd seen Echizen waiting for Tezuka at the gate, it hadn't felt real. After the match against Yukimura, Echizen had been more of an idea in his head than an actual person. He'd waltzed onto the courts from the middle of nowhere, lost his senses, fallen flat on his face, then stood up and  _utterly defeated Yukimura,_ smiling the entire time. And he'd asked, again and again, ' _Isn't tennis fun?'_

...really. And people thought Fuji was creepy.

More than creepy, it was curious. Fuji had known all kinds of people in his life. There was Tezuka, who would sacrifice his arm to win a match. There was Kirihara, who wouldn't mind maiming his opponent for victory. There was Sanada who would make a martyr of himself to get into Yukimura's good books, and then there was Yukimura himself, who would probably slaughter an army and sacrifice his country if it meant that Rikkai Dai would win.

He'd never met someone who could go so far just because 'tennis was fun'.

Fuji watched him often. The boy turned out to be entirely unproductive. His life literally only consisted of tennis. It was a lot like Yukimura – a  _lot_ like Yukimura, but totally different in the approach. Fuji didn't know how to explain it, except that Yukimura was bloody insane and Echizen...well, wasn't.

Echizen wasn't sad, or angry – he just went about his life, played tennis when he could, and slept or leeched off of Tezuka when he couldn't.

Fuji had had no intentions of ever getting to know him. That had been an honest mistake. He'd been perfectly content to sit and watch him, to hypothesize and theorize, but what he hadn't seen coming was -

“Fuji Syusuke! Rikkai. Triple counters. I want a rematch.”

And he certainly hadn't expected anything that came after that.

 

* * *

 

When Ryoma woke up the next morning (hungry, seeing double, with five minutes to get ready and no homework done), skipped a bath and his breakfast, grabbed his bag and sped out the door, he found Tezuka waiting on his doorstep.

Ryoma froze. He took a step back, shut his door, and tried opening it again. Tezuka was still there.

“...buchou?”

“You're late,” Tezuka pointed out.

“Yeah, well, so are you.” He looked around for Fuji. Surely he was somewhere around.

Nope, only Tezuka. “What are you doing here, buchou?” He hadn't seen him up close in months. It looked like he'd grown taller. That was unfair. Ryoma hadn't grown a lousy bit.

“A match. This Saturday.” Tezuka looked uncomfortable, like he was seriously rethinking his life. He shifted, staring straight ahead.

Ryoma started. What the hell?  _“Why?”_

Tezuka looked even more uncomfortable. “Well - “

Ryoma pushed past him, scowling. “Tell Fuji to go and - “ he held his tongue. Tezuka had never tolerated swearing.

He grabbed his bike and sped off, leaving Tezuka calling after him.

“Echizen!”

 

* * *

 

Fuji had a strong sense of deja-vu.

It was raining outside. Heavily. People were running around in all kinds of chaos, shouting and whining and cheering. He sat on his desk, near the window, clicking through the pictures on his camera. Tezuka sat at his own desk, sorting through papers.

“So you talked to him,” Fuji started, no emotion in his voice.

Tezuka sighed. “Barely. He left the moment he saw me.”

“Well, that's expected. You have to try harder.” He didn't want Echizen to be his problem anymore.

Tezuka frowned, giving him a strange look, but said nothing.

When Fuji stood to leave, he looked out of the window at the end of the corridor as per habit. The window with a clear view of the gate.

Echizen wasn't waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

Fuji wasn't kidding when he said he didn't need people in his life.

He went back to his old routine easily. No more waking up early to buy cat food when he didn't have a cat. No more running outside late at night because Echizen had wandered around and ended up lost. No more texts, phone calls, having to reach out and trying to straighten that horrid scowl into something more acceptable...

It had been two weeks since Fuji had last seen Echizen. He stood at the gate, staring at the place where the boy had always waited, for someone or the other, for the past two years. Every day without fail. Rain, sunshine, or freaking tornado.

...okay, maybe not a tornado.

Fuji probably deserved an award of sorts for breaking that perfect attendance record.

As far as he had heard, Tezuka hadn't seen Echizen either. He'd tried to talk to him a couple of times, but Echizen wouldn't listen to him. Tezuka deserved an award too, for managing to make a kid who hero-worshipped him shut him out of his life entirely.

But then Echizen was an insufferable brat, so.

Fuji sighed, now glaring at the spot instead. This was his fault. He'd lost his temper for no reason. Echizen wouldn't have _really_ gone to Rikkai – the message had been sent to annoy him. And Fuji _knew_ that. But...well, he had panicked.

He wouldn't apologize, though. Things were better off this way. Echizen would make up with Tezuka, he would stay alone forever, and everyone would be happy.

 

* * *

 

It occurred to Ryoma one day that he didn't actually know who his classmates were.

He remembered a few of them. Some kid with a loud mouth and supposed tennis experience. Another kid with pigtails. Another kid who'd locked him up in the supply closet in their second year...that was a hard one to forget.

But for the most part he didn't recognize anyone. And that didn't even bother him.

Every day, after school, he'd go straight to the street courts. He usually ran into the the Fudoumine guys. Sometimes St. Rudolph or Shitenhouji. There was always someone to play against. He'd stay at the courts till it started getting dark, and then he'd go home.

“I'm home, Karupin,” he'd say.

“Meow,” she'd reply.

And then his day would be over.

 


End file.
